


polaroid

by mellowly



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1990s, Character Study, Established Relationship, Historical References, Multi, Naked Cuddling, OT3, Other, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 15:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowly/pseuds/mellowly
Summary: new zealand takes pictures of things.america is intrigued.(or: how the story of one became the story of three.)





	polaroid

**Auckland, june, 1998**

* * *

 

New Zealand has kept a photo album for an obscene amount of time now. It's not big, nor fancy.  
America remembers a pretty turquoise book full of little plastic pockets for his pictures.  
Dates and comments are written underneath in his neat hand.  
  
He has never really thought on it until now, a lazy Sunday afternoon on the veranda, the year is 1998.  
His shades are square and fashionable, and Australia is snuggling with New Zealand half-on, half-off a pillow, entirely naked and golden in the sun.  
  
America flips through it, idly at first. Then again.  
He almost frowns; most of the pictures are of New Zealand, some of him, some of Australia. Many landscapes.  
News articles are cut out and stuck next to the pictures. They're faded, a picture-perfect golden yellow like sunset.  
The first couple of pages are just writing.  
  
_september 1st, 1951._  
_Treaty established. ANZUS is pretty catchy. Talked with both of them._ _Miss them._  
  
He flips further, to where the album stops being a diary and pictures come in. New Zealand is a good photographer, he figures with a grin.  
  
_march 3rd, 1972._  
_War still going. I might be in love. Don't know how I feel about that._  
  
The picture is of a sunrise, a little overexposed, from New Zealand's porch.  
It looks lonely, in a way.  
  
_december 18th, 1972._  
_I'm worried about America. Miss him. It's a damn long way to Saigon._  
  
It's him, he realizes abruptly. A picture of him in army uniform. No glasses, smiling at someone off camera.  
America laughs quietly and keeps turning pages.  
  
_may 13th, 1973._  
_Sick. Everything's shit._  
  
It's New Zealand, with a cold cloth on his forehead. Worry is etched in his eyes, in the picture itself.  
  
_june 22nd, 1974._  
_Met Oz. Miss him already. I don't know why he feels the need to fight._  
  
This must be from around when they happened. When they found... Each other.  
The picture is sweet, if a little blurry, of New Zealand pressing a kiss to Australia's scruffily bearded cheek, smiling.  
The green collar of an army uniform peeks into the picture.  
  
_april 10th, 1975._  
_Won the war. Saigon fell. They're going home. They're coming home._  
  
New Zealand again, in front of the TV. He's wearing round glasses and a bright tie-dye shirt, smiling.  
America thinks for a second on how young he looks.  
  
_august 14th, 1983._  
_Nuclear weapons astound me. I have never understood humanity's need for killing._  
  
It's a snapshot of a bomb testing on TV. The camera is shaking from New Zealand's angry hands.  
They are gentle, usually, Alfred thinks. Unfair to make them tremble like that.  
  
_december 25th, 1983._  
_Merry Christmas!_   _Visiting A. for the holidays - pretty cold._  
  
It's himself, and New Zeland. String lights in the background - America's home.  
He nods quietly, vaguely remembering a Christmas so full of contrast.  
Tension and rows in the kitchen but then - hands held outside, walking the cold Washington streets.  
  
_july 4th, 1990._  
_Happy July 4th!!! We had BBQ American way. Oz isn't pleased at all._    
  
Australia, in front of a grill in America's back yard.  
He looks incredulous but amused, sun-kissed and shirtless.  
A ball is being thrown in the background.  
  
_february 5th, 1995._  
_Skiing! Oz is less than skilled. I fell twice, so I guess I'm one to talk..._  
  
There they are, all three, Australia with a bandaged nose and New Zealand in earmuffs - and himself grinning from the old photo with a mug of hot chocolate.  
It's one day before New Zealand's birthday.  
  
America closes the album quietly.  
He'd thought New Zeland's little pictures were nothing but that: pictures. But it's a story, he thinks.  
A story told from the perspective of a little old camera, a story of struggle and friendship. It's a love story, too, if you're America and know the rest, able to look behind the woven meanings of New Zealand's neat little letters.  
  
He heads back to the veranda. New Zealand is awake.  
He lies down and wraps his arms around him without a word, because he knows that they both know, and that is enough.  
New Zealand kisses him softly.  
  
Their story isn't for telling. Not yet.


End file.
